


The Christmas Party

by LadyEleanor456



Category: Chalet School - Elinor M. Brent-Dyer
Genre: Community: Lime Green Musing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:35:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25432462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyEleanor456/pseuds/LadyEleanor456
Summary: Originally posted on the SDL and finished on LGM.
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

Nell Wilson was putting the finishing touches to the Christmas tree in the common room at St Mildreds, for it was their turn to host the school and san Christmas Party for all those staff, who for some reason or another we unable to return to their families at Christmas. She stepped carefully off the step ladder (carefully because of the four cheeky gins and tonic which she had consumed for breakfast) and admired her handy work.

“Nice,” said Gill Culver, poking her head round the door, “The liqueur chocolates and miniatures of gin, sherry, rum, whiskey and vodka, give a nice touch, but I always thought baubles were more usual.”

Nell hiccupped gently and grinned.

“What have you got planned?” asked Gill suspiciously eyeing the head teacher.

“Nothing.” Nell’s smile could not have been more innocent, but Gill had learnt not to trust Nell when she smiled like that. “Well,” added Nell sheepishly, “Almost nothing.”

“Tell me!” demanded Gill. The last time Nell had smiled like that Gill had ended up in a strip club in Munich, stuffing fake currency into the thong belonging to a muscular, baby oiled young man.

“Just a few nibbles and party games,” said Nell radiating innocence.

“Nibbles?”

“Cheese on sticks, and a few twiglets,”

“Is that all?” queried Gill.

“Those chocolate brownies made to the special recipe that Margot Maynard gave me.”

“Oh yes,” said Gill, “The special chocolate brownies?”

“Yes,”

“The ones which seem to make you very hungry,”

“Yes…”

“Party games?”

“A few tried and tested favourites…”

“I assume we are not talking about the Kate Game, or apple bobbing are we?”

“No…” replied Nell shuffling her feet.

“You want to play ‘I have never’ don’t you?”

“Yes,” muttered Nell.

“And that game where you flip a coin, and the first person to get heads chooses the drink, the next person fetches the drink and the third person has to drink it.”

“Yes,” Nell replied quietly.

“Excellent,” said Gill, “I am sick of those bloody parties where we all sit around decorously and discuss that latest cure for TB.”

Nell looked Gill in the eye, “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Even after Munich?”

“Yes, even after Munich, and at least this time I have some warning.”

“And after Grizel’s hen night?”

“Yes, and after Grizel’s hen night.”

“And Joey’s 40th?”

“Yes Nell, even after Joey’s 40th and Matron’s 65th, even though I never did get the stains out of my little black dress, and the night the triplets turned 18, and last Saturday.”

“Excellent,” said Nell, “Now do you fancy a gin and tonic as we get ready?”

“Why not,” replied Gill.

“I’ll go and get the bottle,” said Nell.

“Oh, but it’s only 11.20,” replied Gill.

“And?”

“Oh yes, silly me,” said Gill as Nell exited the room in search of the gin.


	2. Chapter 2

The party was going well, a small contingent of doctors from the san had mixed a lethal bowl of Christmas Punch. They insisted there was nothing in it but vodka, rum and gin, but Nell’s highly developed sense of taste and knowledge of chemistry meant that she suspected a certain amount of meths may have also been added to the mix. And judging from the way the walls were moving she also suspect that some LSD may have been slipped in too.

Gill Culver was happily entertaining the new doctor with her tales of life on the platz, his eyes grew wider and wider, as Gill explained the fun which could be had if one managed to avoid Joey’s English Tea and Radio parties.

Kathie Ferrars and Nancy Wilmott had commandeered the record player and were DJing themselves into a frenzy, to the delight of several doctors and Joan Bertram who were transfixed by Nancy’s 38DD bust.

Hilary and Phil Graves were demonstrating the fun that could be had if you were married to an ex PE teacher, whilst Biddy and Eugan demonstrated the fun you could have with some handcuffs, a few whips and something called a rampant rabbit, which didn’t look like a rabbit at all.

Matron and Hilda were getting steadily drunker as they ate their way through the liqueur chocolates with which Nell had decorated the tree and occasionally passed judgement on their fellows.

“That’s not hygienic,” snorted Matron watching the antics of Hilary and Phil.

“Or that,” slurred Hilda, as she emptied another rum chocolate into her gaping mouth, and pointing in the general direction of Gill and the doctor as the doctor’s hand disappeared somewhere in Gill’s top.

“Oy! Are you playing this game or not?” demanded Nell suddenly appearing in front of them.

“Shit,” said Hilda, as she spilt her rum and coke on down her top.

“Explain the rules again,” answered Matron.

“Ok, we take it in turns,” said Nell, with surprising coherency for someone who had so far consumed at least two bottles of gin, as well as 14 sherry filled chocolates and one cigar (she had mistaken it for an extra large twiglet).

“Yes,” said Matron, nodding her head like a nodding dog.

“And I say something like ‘I have never had sexual relations with a goat’,”

“Yes” said Matron, still nodding.

“And all those people who have had sexual relations with a goat, have to drink,”

Hilda took a swig from the bottle of rum.

“Hilda Tallulah Ermintrude Annersley!” cried Nell, “I don’t believe you!”

“Wha?” slurred Hilda, “I doan unnerstand…” and she was promptly sick in a pot plant.


	3. Chapter 3

At Freudsheim the Christmas celebrations were not going quite the same way.

“More tea vicar?” asked Joey proffering the tea pot to Jack, who accepted without looking up from his Christmas copy of the Lancet. The smell of Margot’s chocolate brownies drifting out from the kitchen also failed to properly attract his attention.

Joey frowned and looked towards the window, a dull repetitive thud drifted into her ears.

“Is that Steve making that row?” she asked Jack plaintively.

“Huh?” said Jack vaguely, “No, I don’t think so, I think it is the San and school Christmas party tonight, Nell and Gill are hosting it…” His voice trailed off when he realised what he had just said.

“I thought they weren’t having one this year?” asked Joey, “Nell said, when I offered to host it, that almost everyone was going home this year, and so they weren’t going to bother.”

“Errr… well, um…” began Jack, looking rather flustered, and he dropped the Lancet on the floor. He quickly dived under the table, hoping that when he re-appeared he would have been able to come up with another topic of conversation. He failed.

“Well?” Joey demanded, “Why are they having the party? And why is Nell hosting it? After all, I offered. I have got some lovely tea in, and there is a wonderful program about school stories on the World Service this evening, it would have been jolly good fun.”

“Ah, well,” said Jack desperately. He had no desire to explain to Joey that Reg Entwhistle and various other doctors had backed him into a corner and threatened to beat him to death with bed pans if they had to endure their seasonal festivities drinking tea and listening to the World Service at Freudsheim. “They um, they, they thought it would be too much for you, with all 14 children home, and the Richardsons and Erica and that child whose name I don’t remember, you know, the one Phil brought home six months ago. Did you ever find out who she was?”

“Not yet,” said Joey, only mildly distracted, “I had an idea for a new book, and with one thing and another, I havn’t had time. But about this party…”

“Yes,” cringed Jack.

“It would have been no bother, Anna could have done the cooking, before she popped back to Austria for a couple of hours, Len and Con could have organised the games, Margot could have provided some of those chocolate brownies she keeps going on about, Steve could have looked after the coats…”

“Well, I suppose…” said Jack doubtfully.

“And anyway,” added Joey, as the thought struck her, “Even if I didn’t host it, we always go, so why weren’t we invited?”

Jack muttered something about the children.

“Nonsense! The triplets can baby-sit, and Steve would help them.”

Jack had no desire to tell his wife that having threatened to beat him to death with bedpans if he and Joey hosted the party, the nurses of the san had followed the doctors and threatened to drown him in the contents of those bedpans if he and Joey came to the party.

“I tell you what!” Joey said brightly, “Let’s pop along and wish everybody a happy Christmas!”

Jack mumbled something into his shirt.

“Don’t be silly,” answered Joey, “Go and tell the Triplets that they need to stop cooking brownies and baby-sit the others, whilst I go and get ready.”

Admitting defeat, and resigning himself to certain death, Jack walked into the kitchen to tell Len, Con and Margot they were needed.

Jack stared in horror at the chaos in the kitchen, this probably wasn’t the time to tell the triplets or Steve that they needed to baby sit. The triplets were sat on the floor giggling hysterically as they watched Steve try to eat his way through a bag of raw lemon biscuit mix. After watching their antics for a few minutes he shrugged his shoulders and left them too it, pausing only long enough to grab a tray of Margot’s special chocolate brownies and he and Jo hurried up the mountain.


	4. Chapter 4

Joey banged furiously on the door of St Mildred’s house as she could not be sure she was heard above the music. “What on earth is going on in there?” she asked Jack, who was sniffing Margot's chocolate brownies with an odd expression on his face.

The door was suddenly pulled open, and Joey fell in with a crash. She landed on top of Gottfied Mensch, who was suddenly, and violently sick. There was a scream, as people realised who had arrived at the party.

“Just what is going on here?” demanded Joey, extracting herself from Gottfried with all the dignity she could muster.

“J..J…Joey…” spluttered Gill as she extricated herself from a doctor… “We thought you were busy this evening…”

Joey looked down at her waistline, “Honesty Gill, do I look busy to you? I am not saying we don’t have hopesfor the spring,” (here Jack was seen to go pale), “but I am not too busy to attend the school and san Christmas party.”

“Busy?” Gill’s doctor was heard to mutter, “What does she mean by that?”

“Knocked up,” hissed Nell, as she sashayed forwards to deal with what was about to become a very sticky situation. Unfortunately she was distracted by the tray which Jack was clutching in his hands. “Are they Margot’s chocolate brownies?” she asked eagerly.

“Yes,” said Jack, and suddenly he was hit by a stampede of people determined to get their hands on his brownies. The resulting uproar made the nearby stock cupbboard door fell open, and Eugen Courvoisier was revealed, with an orange stuffed in his mouth, and a tie tight about his neck. He was being straddled by Hilda Annersley who didn’t bat an eyelid at the stampede, and merely reached out and helped herself to a chocolate brownie, before shutting the door once more.

A flash of brassiere on Hilda’s magnificent bust had sent many a man into a spasm. Jack was no exception. His jaw fell open, the brownies flew from his hand, landing on Joey. There was a mass stampede towards her, and Joey screamed as many hands reached out, pulling the brownies from her, not caring if her flesh was ripped away too. It was then Jack realised that all the members of the school and san were zombies.

Jack turned tail and fled, leaving his wife to be eaten alive by the assembled hordes. He had not idea what had caused this transformation, but as a doctor he felt the urge to find a cure. He dived back into Freudsheim, ignoring the screams from the nursery as the Triplets, Steve and Felicity disembowelled and ate their siblings.

“What is the common factor in all this?” murmured Jack as he fished out his chemistry set.

Suddenly, Nell Wilson jumped through the window. Her clothes were torn, revealing a rather substantial bust, held in place by a very exotic corset. She was panting heavily, which made her bust heave in a most enticing manner. Jack was forced to take several deep breaths, and did not notice as he crushed the test tube held in his hand.

“What the hell is going on?” demanded Nell, “One minute, party time, the next minute, people eating each other!”

“Is Joey…?” asked Jack.

“Dead,” replied Nell, “I saw Hilda eat her myself.”

“Oh dear,” said Jack, eying Nell’s bust.

“What I want to know,” said Nell leaning forwards, inadvertently revealing a ripped bra and rather more of her bust than she realised, “Is what the hell is going on? Why has everyone turned into a zombie?”

“I don’t know,” said Jack helplessly, unable to remove his eyes from the shreds of lace which were the only remaining parts of Nell’s bra.

“I blame those bloody brownies,” said Nell, “Everyone ate them apart from me, Joey, you and Eugan, and Joey and Eugan have both been eaten by the zombies now.”

“Why didn’t they eat you?” asked Jack, blushing as various images ran round the inside of his head.

“No idea,” replied Nell as removed a hip flask from her stocking top and took a swig of gin.

“You must have some natural immunity,” said Jack, eying the expanse of thigh which Nell revealed as she replaced the hipflask in her stocking top.


	5. Chapter 5

"I don't really give a damn about my natural immunity," said Nell crossly, "At the moment I want to know what the hell has caused this!" and she waved her arm in the direction of the window and its view of the zombies outside.

“The brownies.” Jack chocked out, dragging his eyes up from Nell’s thigh to her bust, and then to her face.

“Yes, the brownies,” replied Nell, looking at him with concern.

“I think there may be something in them which turns people into zombies,” he said.

“Do you have any left?” asked Nell, her eyes boring into his manly face.

“The kitchen perhaps,” said Jack standing up, he glanced down at his trousers and sat down hurriedly, “Perhaps you could go,” he added, as he seized a cushion and put it on his lap.

“By all means,” Nell sashayed to the door, as her ripped skirt gradually slipped to around her knees. Jack groaned deeply.

Heading into the hall, Nell came face to face with Felicity, whose eyes were glowing red, and whose pinafore was stained with blood. She lunged towards Nell, groaning and teeth bared. Nell looked round for a weapon. On the wall was a large machine gun, a souvenir of Jack’s from the war, she seized it, but before she could fire, Felicity gave a great moan, and backed away.

Grabbing her chance, Nell pulled the machine gun from the wall, sending up a prayer to which ever gods may exist, she pulled the trigger, Felicity’s head vanished in a blood stained mist. Nell heaved a deep sigh of relief, and swinging the gun over he shoulder, she stepped over Felicity’s corpse and opened the door to the kitchen.

The blood stained remains of Anna were splattered all over the walls, but Anna herself was moving towards Nell, arms outstretched, teeth bared. Nell swing the machine gun to the front, and blew Anna away. She seized a cooling tray of chocolate brownies and hurried back to the study.

She kicked the door open and was amazed by the sight which met her eyes. Jack Maynard, his trousers round his ankles, was pleasuring himself furiously.

“What the hell?” demanded Nell.

Jack leapt to his feet in horror, Nell’s eyes slipped downwards, “Good god,” she said, as she surveyed the view.

Jack gave a shriek of horror and desperately pulled his trousers up.

“Well really Jack,” said Nell, “I never realised zombies did it for you.”

Jack spluttered incoherently.

“Here are the brownies,” added Nell, proffering the tray. Hands shaking Jack took it from her and begin analysing it using his chemistry set.

“Hmmm… flour, eggs, butter, cannabis, cocoa powder, sugar, milk chocolate and oh, hello, what’s this?”

“What’s what?” asked Nell.

“Solarnum,” said Jack, “How did that get into the brownies?”

“What on earth is solarnum?” demanded Nell swigging discreetly from her hip flask.

“It is a little thing we were working on in the san, a potential cure for TB sufferers.”

“But it turns people into zombies?”

“True, a minor side effect, but we were working on it.”

“How did it get into the brownies?”

“I have no idea,” said Jack.

“But you can stop it?”

“Stop it?”

“Yes, you know, inject people with a cure. You’re a doctor, it’s what you do. Cure people.”

“One small problem,” replied Jack, ”At the moment there is no cure.”

“No cure?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You see, the virus uses the cells of the brains’ frontal lobes for replication, destroying them in the process. Once the brain is infected, all bodily functions cease and all traces of humanity is irrevocably lost.”

“You had me as far as ‘you see’,” said Nell looking bemused.

“There is no cure,” said Jack patiently.

“But you said I am immune,” mused Nell.

“I don’t understand why that is. Could I take a blood sample?” Jack held out a syringe.

“Why not?” Nell held out her arm.

Jack withdrew a vial of blood and returned to his chemistry set. After a few minutes he said, “Nell, how much gin do you drink?”

“In what time period?” queried Nell, a gin bottle poised at her lips.

“Per day?”

“Five bottles,” said Nell confidently.

“I assume we are not talking miniatures.”

“Nope, the big bottles. Why?”

“Your blood is almost pure gin,” replied Jack as he starred at Nell in wonder.

“And your point?”

“That could be the reason for your immunity, the virus cannot reach your brain because the gin destroys it. Could you pass me that bottle?”

Nell clutched the gin protectively to her bosom, “What are you going to do with it?”

“A small experiment,”

“How small?”

“Tiny,” Jack assured her.

Reluctantly Nell surrendered her gin.

Jack tipped it onto the remaining brownie and watched it carefully through a microscope, “Yes!” he yelled gleefully, “The gin destroys the solarnum!”

“How does this help us?” asked Nell as she retrieved her gin.

“If my theory is correct, then we inject all the zombies with gin, and they should return to normal.”

“Should?”

“We need a test subject,” said Jack. He glanced towards Nell, “I don’t suppose you could go an fetch one for me?”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Nell as she looked over his shoulder at the door. Jack spun round. There, in the doorway, stood Mary-Lou, a glazed inhuman expression on her face, covered in blood and moaning. She lurched into the room, reaching for Jack with outstretched arms.

Nell dropped the bottle into her ample cleavage and raised the gun confidently. She took aim and prepared to blow Mary-Lou into smithereens.

"Stop!" cried Jack, "We need a subject to test the gin on!" but it was too late. Mary-Lou's head exploded like a ripe watermelon which had just been stomped on by a huge, obese elephant.

"Not to worry," said Nell, "If we head back to St Mildreds I am sure we will find plenty of zombies there."

Jack bent down and studied the corpse of Mary Lou, he dipped a finger in her blood and delicately licked it. "Oh dear," he said.

"What?"

"I don't think Mary-Lou was a zombie... I think she was still alive. Still human."

Nell shrugged, "She was bloody annoying, that is what she was. Zombie or not, I have done the world a massive favour."

Jack nodded thoughtfully, "Good point. However, we do still need a test subject, or possibly more than one, to ensure that my theory is correct. Therefore Nell, I need you to venture out onto the platz and capture me some zombies."

"Outside?"

"Yes."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"To capture zombies?"

"Yes."

"Based on your lunatic premise that the zombies won't bite me due to the fact that I am a gin addled moron?"

"Yes."

"May I take the gun?"

"Yes."

"Awesome," Nell hefted the gun over her shoulder, hoicked together the tattered threads of her blouse and did a commando roll out of the window.


	6. Chapter 6

10 minutes passed.

And another 10 minutes.

Jack waited.

He waited some more.

Eventually even his legendary patience ran out. He walked to the window and gazed upon a scene of complete horror. Nell was surrounded by zombies, but as a result of the huge amounts of gin coursing through her system, none of them would come near her. Jack had just pressed his nose against the window when a blood stained face slammed into it. Judging from the angel's wings headress it used to be Matron. Jack screamed loudly. Matron smashed the window and grabbed him by the throat. She was just opening her jaws to rip out his throat when Nell hit her round the head with the machine gun. This, combined with the repulsive smell of Nell's gin laced blood (repulsive to zombies that is) succeeded in knocking Matron out and Jack, who had finally stopped screaming, was able to pull Matron's body into the room. Nell followed. As Jack whipped out a syringe to take blood Nell hastily barricaded the window with old copies of the Lancet (which on closer inspection turned out to be Playboy, which the enterprising Jack had covered with the Lancet). Nell shrugged her shoulders, "Each to his own," she muttered.

"What?" said Jack, looking up from the prone body of Matron. He saw what Nell was doing and blushed violently, "I can explain.." he spluttered.

"Explain this!" cried Nell, thrusting one of the magazines into his face. The centrefold featured none other than Madge Russell.

Jack opened and closed his mouth like a stranded codfish.

"Well?" demanded Nell, as if zombies weren't overrunning the platz. She looked closer at the picture, "My god, but she has had some surgery!"

Jack finally managed to splutter a sentence or two, "Nell, is this really the time?" and he indicated the zombie that used to be Matron, who was beginning to stir. Nell strolled over and sat on her head whilst continuing to examine the picture of Madge.

"This is a recent photo, and... oh dear, I think she has had a brazillian..."

With the zombie Matron once more rendered unconscious Jack, ignoring Nell, who continued to mutter about the picture, was able to withdraw some blood. He rushed to his chemistry set and set about mixing the blood with gin and observing the results under his microscope. "Yes!" he cried, punching the air, it definitely works. Now all we need to do is establish how much gin is needed to return Matron to normal. Pass me the bottle please Nell."

Nell uttered a squark and clasped the bottle to her breast, "Can't you use your own? I know you keep some in the bottom draw of your desk."

Jack went red, but he reached into the draw and pulled out an almost full bottle of Gordon's Gin. He filled the syringe and advanced on the zombie Matron. He was just about to plunge the needle in when the study door flew open.

"Reg, thank god!" said Jack, with relief. "You are not a zombie are you?"

Instead of answering, Reg whipped out a pistol and pointed it at Jack's head, "Put the syringe down and step away from the zombie," he said.

Jack looked confued, "Reg, I have found the cure," he said, "I just need to test it."

Reg didn't lower the gun.

"Reg? Reg? What's going on?"

"I know gin is the cure," replied Reg, "I have always known."

"Then, what... why?" spluttered Jack.

"I don't have to tell you anything," replied Reg, his finger tightening on the trigger. "I won't tell you again, step away from the zombie."


	7. Chapter 7

"No, I won't," replied Nell, as she continued to sit on Matron.

Reg cocked the gun and pointed it at her. "Yes, you will," he said in a menacing tone of voice.

"Nope, not happening," came the reply.

"I won't ask you again," said Reg.

"You will, and I still won't," answered Nell.

"You have one chance before I shoot you in the head," said Reg, sounding a little uncertain now.

"Told you," said Nell.

"Told me what?" asked Reg.

"That you would ask me to move again."

"But I didn't," he said, sounding a little more confident.

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"You did."

"Didn't."

"Did."

"Didn't."

Nell opened her mouth to answer, but did not need to as Jack had snuck up behind the now baffled Reg and hit him firmly over the head with a chair.

"You took your time," said Nell as she put down the magazine.

"I didn't realise what you were trying to do," said Jack.

"Yes, you did," said Nell wickedly.

"No,I didn't..." began Jack before the penny dropped. "Look, we are not getting into this, I am going to see if the gin will restore Matron to her non zombie state, keep sitting on her whilst I administer the injection." He lent over and injected Matron firmly in the left buttock.


	8. Chapter 8

The zombie that was Matron let out a huge bellow as Jack pushed the plunger down. The bellow was so deep and loud that the reverberations toppled Jack's bookshelf onto Reg, squashing him flat. Nell rose to her feet and turned to look at the figure of Matron.

"Has it worked?" she demanded of Jack.

"Hard, to tell yet," replied Jack as he stared professionally at the prone figure on the floor.

Matron's body convulsed, went rigid, convulsed again and then seemed to relax. Her arms moved, and slowly she began to push herself up from the floor.

"Has she got glowing red eyes?" demanded Nell, "That's a sure sign she is still a zombie."

"I can't see," replied Jack, "The sun is rising and shining directly on her face."

Matron let out a low moan, and lifted her head, her eyes bored into Jack's face.

"Good god!" exclaimed Jack backing away.

Matron clambered to her feet, threw her head back and roared!

"Is that a good sign?" asked Nell.

Matron's head snapped back down and she fixed Nell with a steely gaze.

"Are her eyes red?" asked Jack who was now cowering behind his desk.

Nell squinted at Matron, "No... they are purple... now they are violet... now they are blue..."

"What on earth are you blithering on about Nell Wilson?" demanded the familiar tones of Matron.

"Ooooh Matron! You are not a zombie!" cried Nell, and she launched herself into Matron's arms.

"What on earth is going on?" demanded the terror of the school as she carefully extricated herself from Nell's vice like grip. "Jack Maynard, come out from behind that desk and explain yourself."

"It wasn't my fault Matron," said Jack as he slowly emerged. "You see, what happened was..."

"Not your fault? Don't be ridiculous," snapped Matron, "Whenever there is a zombie outbreak on the platz you can guarantee that some deluded doctor is responsible for it."

"I say Matron, that's a bit harsh," spluttered Jack.

"Is is? IS IT?" demanded Matron furiously.

"She has a point," agreed Nell.

"And why," continued Matron ignoring Nell,"am I always the one who ends up getting the trial injection in the left buttock? It's practically a pin cushion thanks to you!"

"So what is the cure this time?" asked Matron.

"An injection of gin to the left buttock," answered Nell.

Matron rolled her eyes, "Again?"

"I'm afraid so," said Nell, gazing sadly at her gin filled hip flask.

"Right. You prepare the syringes Jack, Nell, you go out on the platz and start bringing me zombies, and I will administer the cure." Such was the force of Matron that Jack and Nell obeyed without argument.

Within a few hours the zombified members of the platz had been returned to normal, and the body parts of the eaten collected and taken to the San morgue.

"This has been fun," said Nell as she and Gillian walked back to St Mildreds.

"It certainly has," agreed Gill, "But I hope someone got rid of the San's supplies of Solarnum, or whatever it was that turns people into zombies."

"Oh yes," said Nell confidently, "Jack said he would deal with it himself."

At the morgue Jack was looking carefully at his needle work as he finished stitching Joey back together. He picked up a bottle, inserted a syringe and drew out the contents. He injected the corpse of his wife and sat back and waited. Within minutes the corpse's eyes snapped open, they were glowing red...


End file.
